


Lower Frequencies

by ebeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Headcanon, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebeth/pseuds/ebeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And yet…sometimes, late at night, when he would be so desperate for human contact, when he had been fighting terrors, and monsters, or when he didn’t hear back from John, or when he started to think about Sammy off at school, he would search the lower frequencies for the calming voices that kept all of those fears at bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lower Frequencies

It started when he was hunting by himself and the usual music just couldn’t keep him awake late one night. He had finished the crappy-ass gas station coffee ages ago. Besides at this point caffeine hardly did anything for him. And while he wasn't above using the occasional help of the illegal variety to keep him going- truth be told he just wasn't that big of a fan of stimulants. He never felt as sharp on a hunt while he was on them. Plus he was out. No, what he needed was conversation, or to feel like he was around people, so he flipped the station over to whatever talk radio he could find. The first one was too Jesus-y for him. The second one was sports shouting and he never really cared for sports all that much to start with, so why would he want people shouting it out at him? But then he found NPR, coming through some local college affiliate. It was quiet, and soothing, and just what he needed to make it the rest of the way.

By the next morning he felt ashamed of listening to the station. It was so cerebral, and thought provoking, and absolutely _nothing_ like he was raised on. He shrugged the incident off as a fluke and figured he just needed to scour the next record store for some music he didn’t already own. And yet…sometimes, late at night, when he would be so desperate for human contact, when he had been fighting terrors, and monsters, or when he didn’t hear back from John, or when he started to think about Sammy off at school, he would search the lower frequencies for the calming voices that kept all of those fears at bay.

He started learning which programs he liked and which ones he didn’t- the BBC news didn’t do much for him, but he liked This American Life. It reminded him he wasn’t alone in having a weird life, though admittedly he couldn’t imagine Ira Glass talking to Hunters about the oddities of the job. He found himself starting to care about the news whenever he caught Morning Edition and A Prairie Home Companion started to become just that, a companion to remind him of those deepest memories of his- the ones he had of a normal life.

“It’s just something to pass the time,” he would tell himself. “Hunters don’t actually listen to NPR,” was always his justification when he felt like he had to reassure himself of, well of what, exactly? His masculinity? His abilities as a Hunter? He was secure in both, thank you very much, and didn’t need to prove anything. But NPR still seemed like a secret he had to hide. He wasn’t the intellectual of the family. Sammy was and look at what that had gotten him. All but kicked out of the house and radio silence for years. No, he told himself, it’s just so I can keep awake at night. Nothing more. Until he heard Car Talk. This was a show that even if John were in the car with him he wouldn’t feel like he had to turn the station. Two brothers, taking cheap shots at each other, help people fix up all kinds of cars. It was like the radio station he and Sam would have, except they might tell people how to salt and burn instead of how to fix a rusted engine.

Later, after he and Sam have started hunting together, he mostly stops listening to NPR. But some nights, when Sammy is dead asleep, he finds the local station and remembers those nights when the composed voices coming out of his radio were the only thing that kept him sane. As soon as Sam wakes up, it’s back to the usual loud classic rock. But sometimes, either because he knows more than he lets on or because he is a nerd, Sam asks Dean if they can listen to public radio. And even though shotgun should keep his cakehole shut, Dean can’t help but smile a little as he starts scanning the stations.


End file.
